


life was a willow (and it bent right to your wind)

by dearzoemurphy



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Episode: s06e13 Emotional Consequences of Broadcast Television
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28931007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearzoemurphy/pseuds/dearzoemurphy
Summary: After sending Annie and Abed off to go live their dreams, Jeff and Britta are forced to think about where they go from here.
Relationships: Britta Perry/Jeff Winger
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. begging for you to take my hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [august_seven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/august_seven/gifts).



> soooo this first chapter is a revised version of a songfic based on Arms by Christina Perri that I wrote a little while ago, and the second chapter is a continuation of it, inspired by august_seven saying that they wanted to see more from that particular universe! it just kind of completes the story, so I hope you all enjoy. <3
> 
> (also the title is inspired by how Yellow_Bird_On_Richland titles their fics, I'm really just taking bits and pieces from all of my fic pals for this one, aren't I)

“Well hey there, stranger,” Britta called, peering through the doorway.

She was surprised to see Jeff strolling in through the front door again. He had volunteered to drive Craig and Chang back to their respective homes, so she hadn't expected to see him again. The Vatican was now empty except for the two of them, all of the lights dark except for the one directly above the bar. 

“Hey there, little lady. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he replied with somewhat of a Southern twang and a mildly devious smirk. Britta gave him a mildly disgruntled look as she continued wiping down the counter.

Jeff chuckled in response, pulling out a stool from underneath the bar and taking a seat right in front of her. “Anything I can do to help out?”

“Nope. I just have to finish this and lock everything up,” Britta replied, then paused for a moment, “Is that the only reason you came back?”

“What? No. I…I wanted to talk to you. Like, without everyone else here. Alone.”

Britta raised an eyebrow, now finding herself somewhat intrigued. “Talk about what?”

“Maybe we could do this after you’re done?” Jeff asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

She narrowed her eyes at his request, but ultimately nodded in agreement. “Sure. Give me just a minute.”

He nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket so that he could fiddle with it as Britta finished wiping down the counter. After six years of watching Jeff play with his phone, she had learned how to tell if he was actually texting or only pretending to do so. At this moment, without a doubt, he was only pretending.

When she was done, Britta took the dirty rag and threw it into a bin. She surveyed the area as she made her way back down the bar to Jeff, wanting to ensure that there were no last minute surprises to clean up.

“Can I get you anything? I know you didn’t drink much since you were driving everyone home, so…”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Do you really want the dregs of a pitcher of sangria that I made a few hours ago?” Britta asked, producing the pitcher in question from the shelf behind her.

Jeff rolled his eyes, but didn’t make any attempt to wipe the playful smile from his face. “Sure, why not? I feel like you’d make a pretty lethal sangria.”

“You’ll get confirmation soon enough,” Britta said with a glint in her eye. She took two glasses down from the rack behind her and split the liquid that remained in the pitcher between them. She slid one across the bar to Jeff before grabbing the other and making her way around it to take a seat on the stool next to his.

“So…what’s up?”

Jeff picked up his glass by the stem and took a long, slow swig of the drink before answering. “I think the world ended today.”

Britta tilted her head to the side. “What makes you say that?”

“Everything feels wrong. I mean, we sent the last two of our friends away on a plane today. And everyone else barely said anything about it,” Jeff began to elaborate, “This has to be purgatory, right? We’re 40 years old, trapped in a small Colorado town at jobs we barely tolerate, and all of our better and more virtuous friends are gone, never to be seen again.”

“Speak for yourself, old man. I’m only 34,” Britta said with a sideways smirk.

Jeff rolled his eyes again. “Whatever. You get my point.”

“No, not really. I know it’s hard, but I thought that you had realized that Annie and Abed needed to leave and that it’s not a bad thing,” she said earnestly, “and I wasn’t under the impression that you were _that_ miserable here.”

“I don’t know. Something about dropping them off at the airport made it…real. It felt sort of final. And once it was real…I couldn’t accept the fact that they needed to leave anymore,” Jeff said. He was swirling his glass around, staring intently at the spiraling liquid within. “It feels like the world is closing in on me, Britta. And I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“So you came back here because you want me to therapize you? I’d love to, but it’s kind of late for that.”

“No. I came back because you’re always the person I come to when it feels like the world is ending,” Jeff interjected, “You’re the only person who ever seems to see right through me and all my bullshit. I figured that you would just tell me that I was being melodramatic and that I’d go back to normal in no time.”

Britta gave him a gentle smile and set her glass down on the bar so that she could reach over to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Jeff…you’re not being melodramatic. You’re probably going through the stages of grief right now, which is perfectly normal in this situation. It’s normal to have a sense of world-ending dread when people you love move away or go on to do other things.”

He snorted. “I thought you said it was too late for therapizing.”

“I guess not,” Britta said, still smiling and now rubbing her thumb along his shoulder, “but I’m serious. Don’t beat yourself up too much, and don’t try to bury it deep down. You’ll only feel worse in the long run if you lock everything up to deal with it later.”

Jeff smiled down at the counter. “Do you remember that time when you broke into my old condo to steal a faucet for me?”

Britta stopped rubbing his shoulder and gave him a look of confusion. “Yes? But what does that have to do with this?”

“The moment when I opened the bag and you explained why you did it was the moment when I realized that I was in trouble. That you’d seen through my facade, and that I was falling,” he explained.

“Falling…?”

Jeff chuckled. “For you, Britts. It all started because of you, you know that, right?”

She blushed and looked down at the grungy floor as soon as she felt his gaze lock onto her. “I mean…I guess. Because you were a gross guy and just wanted to get in my pants.”

“At the beginning, yes,” Jeff said, nodding thoughtfully, “But you know it became more than that.”

“...some part of me deep down knew, I guess. But I tried not to think about it,” she said.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Feelings make things…complicated.”

Jeff nodded in agreement, turning his head so that he was looking down at his half-empty sangria glass again. “Can’t argue with that,” he said, pausing before adding, “but you kept seeing right through me when others couldn’t. It’s always been your gift.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Britta’s hand still resting on Jeff’s shoulder.

“You know, I think that even if we weren’t the only ones left, you’d still be my best friend,” she said, voice cracking as she broke the silence.

“And you only admit that after everyone else was picked off one by one?” Jeff asked, clearly intending for it to be a joke. However, his voice was unmistakably tinged with very real pain.

Britta looked back up at him and squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah. We both would have freaked out if I had said it any other time.”

“You’re right. It was always easier to let go.”

She moved her head forward to get a better look at Jeff’s face. “Excuse me, what?”

He turned to meet her gaze, finally locking onto her bright blue eyes. “It was easier to let you go. After paintball, after sophomore year, after getting drunk and almost getting married and after getting engaged for real. The idea of holding on was…scary,” Jeff said. His eyes returned to his sangria for a moment before they were able to migrate back to hers. “But maybe letting go isn’t always the answer. Maybe it would be nice to have someone to hold onto.”

“Are you saying…do you…do you want to hold on? To me, of all people?” Britta squeaked, still in disbelief.

Jeff laughed; a short, choppy laugh that seemed to say ‘well, duh’. “I’m not sure what you’re implying with ‘of all people’, but yes. I do.”

“I was implying that I’m not the sort of person that one holds onto. Neither of us are,” Britta said, looking down at the counter, her tone almost wistful.

“But can’t people change?” Jeff asked. Britta lifted her head to see that his eyes were glassy and that his lip was nearly trembling.

She took a deep breath. “I think you’re just freaking out about Annie and Abed actually being gone. You’re distracting yourself. This will blow over.” It sounded almost like she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince Jeff.

“And if it doesn’t?”

Britta bit her lip.

“You’re not gonna leave me too, are you, Britts?”

She inhaled slowly, carefully planning out her response. “I’m not planning on it. I’ve got nowhere else to go,” she said, cracking a small smile.

“Good,” Jeff said a little too quickly, “I mean, not that I don’t want you to have opportunities or a better place to go. I just…I don’t want you to leave. Not yet.”

“I wouldn’t want to leave you, Jeff. I don’t think I could bring myself to leave behind everything from these past six years just yet, despite how batshit crazy as they’ve been.”

“I mean, I don’t want to think that I’m holding you back…”

“You’re not,” Britta quickly assured him, “I don’t even have my degree yet, there’s no opportunities out there for me.”

“I have mine, and there’s none for me, either,” Jeff said. Britta was a little unsure if he was joking or being unusually candid.

“Well, I’m glad you came back tonight. I wouldn’t want you dealing with all of this alone.”

“Me too. I didn’t like the thought of being alone in my apartment, and I didn’t like the thought of you being here alone here, either,” he replied, “I know that you stayed strong for all of us these past few weeks. So, uh…just know that I’m here if you need to fall apart.”

Britta smiled warmly, her hand wandering back over to clutch onto Jeff’s arm. “Thanks. I, um…I know from a psychological perspective that you’re probably just going through a lot and freaking out and stuff right now. But, if in a few weeks, you want to talk about holding on…you know where to find me,” she sputtered.

Jeff smiled back before leaning over to take Britta’s head gently between his hands and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Of course.”

She wanted so badly to lean in a little further and close the gap that remained between them. But she knew that it would be better if she didn’t. She was probably freaking out just like him and hadn’t allowed herself the proper time or space to process her friends leaving. That was definitely it, she didn’t _actually_ want to kiss her best friend. Freud probably had a theory to explain this away. Their feelings would pass and they’d both be back to normal before they knew it.

“You know, in a way, you’re all that’s left of my first real home,” Jeff said in a soft, cracking voice, taking her hand in his and squeezing it.

Britta threw her free arm around him and pulled him as close as she could without falling off of her stool. “And you’re all that’s left of mine.”

Jeff let go of her hand to embrace her with both arms, Britta quickly moving to do the same. She gripped onto the fabric of his shirt as if he would disappear if she didn’t.

“I’ve never let anyone see this much of me. But I think you already knew that,” he practically whispered into her ear.

Britta smiled into the crook of his neck and somehow found a way to hold on even tighter. “I did. And me neither, Jeff. Me neither.”


	2. wreck my plans, that's my man

A few weeks passed. Everyone seemed to settle into their summer routine; Frankie taking a vacation with her sister, the Dean drafting up plans for a youth outreach program to increase enrollment for the fall semester, and Chang taking up residence in one of the newly vacated dorms.

And then there was Britta.

She didn’t quite want to admit that Jeff had been right about her need to fall apart. She _wasn’t_ falling apart. Crying while scrolling through Craigslist in search of new roommates was normal. Healthy, even. So was essentially holing up in apartment 303 with Daniel and Suzie B, Jr. as her only company. It wasn’t like she had totally cut herself off from everyone. She made sure to respond to every message sent in the study group’s text chain and smiled at others in the grocery store during her weekly trips. She just wanted to enjoy the beginning of summer vacation alone, taking some much needed time for herself. That was totally normal, right?

However, she eventually had to admit that her state of isolation was only making her more miserable. Namely because her mind was starting to wander during her alone time, and annoyingly, it kept returning to one particular place that she had hoped to smooth over.

Jeff hadn’t called her in over two weeks. He hadn’t come knocking on her door or even texted her outside of group chats. After their conversation in The Vatican, they’d hung out once with the committee members that remained, then largely fell off each other’s radars. And that bothered Britta. With how they had left things, she didn’t want to contact him first. She’d firmly placed the ball in his court, so reaching out would seem strange or desperate, she decided. Besides, she wasn’t exactly sure what to say to him and how to acknowledge what he had said to her. She still wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about what he’d said, either.

And yet, despite all of these different factors, Britta somehow found herself succumbing to a moment of weakness on one particularly dreary Wednesday night.

Clouds were hanging heavy in the sky, giving the impression that it could begin pouring at any minute. Britta was sitting in front of her TV with a veggie wrap in her hand and a cat on her lap. Her phone, sitting face up on the coffee table in front of her, was buzzing with a notification from the Save Greendale Committee’s group chat.

 _“Has anyone heard from Jeffery lately? I’m getting a little worried,”_ a text from the Dean read.

She sighed and leaned forward to pick up her phone, skipping right over the group chat in favor of scrolling down to her private chat with Jeff.

_“hey. just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing :)”_

Britta regretted the text the moment that she sent it. Was the smiley face emoticon too suggestive? Would her concern seem disingenuous since the Dean had just texted all of them asking about Jeff? Was ‘hey’ a bad way to start a text to your best friend that you haven’t spoken to in weeks because he implied that he had lingering romantic feelings for you the last time that you really talked to him?

Mercifully, it wasn’t long before her fears were assuaged with a response from Jeff.

_“Doing alright. Want to meet up for a drink?”_

_“tonight?”_

_“If you’re free, that is.”_

Britta chuckled as she typed out a reply. _“Of course I’m free. Where do you want to go?”_

_“L Street?”_

_“of course you still insist on calling it that.”_

_“Well, what else would I call it?”_

She read the last text in his voice, shaking her head at his insistence on using the wrong name for the Red Door.

_“I can be there in 15.”_

_“Cool. See you then.”_

It was only when Britta put down her phone and pushed Daniel off of her lap that she realized what she had just agreed to.

_“Shit, what if he wants to talk about the thing that I told him we could talk about? What if he doesn’t say anything about it at all? What if…”_

Her train of thought derailed itself, and she took in a slow, calming breath.

 _“Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it. Maybe he just wants to hang out and catch up. Friends do that. We do that!”_ Britta assured herself, _“Don't overthink it. Everything’s going to be perfectly fine. And normal. Nothing crazy or out of the ordinary is going to happen, I promise.”_

\---

When Britta finally arrived at the Red Door in her favorite red leather jacket and platform boots, it didn’t take long for her to find Jeff, who was sitting alone in a booth tucked away in the corner furthest from the bar’s jukebox.

“Howdy, stranger.”

“Why is turning into a Southern gentleman your new go-to for greeting me?” Britta asked as she slid into the seat across from him.

He shrugged, lifting his highball glass to his lips so that he could take a large swig from it. “Don’t know. I was trying something new.”

Britta rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m gonna go get-”

“A vodka neat, four olives?”

She turned to see a waitress standing beside the table, holding the drink out to the pair. Jeff nodded towards Britta, prompting the woman to set the drink down in front of her before scurrying off.

“Did you plan that?” Britta asked, appreciative as she picked an olive out of the glass.

“I ordered the drink, but I didn’t think that the timing would be that impeccable,” Jeff answered.

“That sure _was_ impeccable timing.”

She raised the glass up, clinking the edge of it against Jeff’s before taking a sip. He gave her an unusually warm smile before raising his own to take another swig, nearly emptying the glass.

“So, how’ve you been?” Britta asked, setting her glass down but still fidgeting with it.

“Good, good. Getting in some alone time.”

“Me too.”

“I was wondering when I didn’t hear from you for a while,” Jeff remarked.

“I didn’t hear from _you_ for a while.”

He nodded, stroking his stubbly beard with his free hand.. “That’s fair. I don’t know, I guess that I just needed some space to process…everything.”

“Yeah. I get it,” Britta said with a shaky smile, “Same here.”

Jeff downed the rest of his scotch and set down his glass, pushing it aside so that he could set his elbows on the table between them. He clasped both hands together and took a deep breath before lifting his head enough to make eye contact with Britta. “So…I don’t mean to cut right to the chase, but I don’t really want to waste any more time before I say this,” he said.

“I don’t mind cutting to the chase,” Britta replied with a semi-nervous laugh. Truth was, she _did_ mind. She thought that she would have a little more time to prepare for this conversation, a few more pleasantries to exchange before she had to answer the question that she feared Jeff might ask.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past couple of weeks. And…long story short, I think you were wrong.”

“About what?” Britta set down her own glass and pushed it over towards Jeff’s.

“Well, technically, you were both right and wrong. I _was_ freaking out because Annie and Abed were leaving and they were a large part of my first real family. But…you were wrong that my feelings for you were a side effect of that freakout.”

Britta could only immediately give a slow blink. It took another few seconds before she could settle on any words to say.

“Oh. Is that so?”

Jeff chuckled. “Trust me, I didn’t want to believe it, either. Actually, I straight up _didn’t believe it_ for at least a week. I assumed that you had to be right, because I’d never wanted an actual romantic relationship with you before. The very thought seemed…preposterous. But then I kept thinking, and…I just want you in my life, Britta. And I don’t think everything that’s happened between us means nothing. Like you said, feelings make things complicated, so it was easier to pretend that was the case. But now that we’re the only ones left, maybe we can finally be honest with ourselves.”

“Not to steal a line from you, but did it _really_ take all of our other friends leaving for you to admit that?” Britta asked, being only semi-serious.

“I guess. I don’t know, I think it took all of our friends leaving for me to seriously think about my future. I’m still not sure what I want out of life, and mine might be halfway over. The only thing I really know for sure is that I want my best friend with me, no matter what comes next.” Jeff let go of his own hand so that he could reach out to one of Britta’s. She met him halfway, lacing their fingers together and resting her palm on the table. “And I’m pretty sure that I want to _be_ with my best friend, in a romantic sense. There’s no one else that I can picture myself dating and being happy with, you know? For a long time, actually, it’s just been _you_.”

“Me?!” Britta echoed.

Jeff’s smile widened as his eyes seemed to grow sad. “Yes, you. Please, feel free to make fun of me for it.”

Britta smiled back. “Oh, I will. You have horrible taste.”

He laughed, but there was a sadness that matched his eyes hiding somewhere in the sound. “You know, I should have realized it at the end of last year.”

“Why’s that?”

“There’s a reason we got engaged, and I don’t think that it was just because we were scared. For me, at least, I kind of genuinely liked the idea of building a picket fence and growing old together. I guess that somehow, subconsciously, I never really let that go.”

“Then why _did_ you let go?”

“Excuse me?”

Britta cleared her throat, trying to swallow the lump that was quickly forming in it. “I know you said it was easier to let go the last time we talked. But if you really wanted all of that _this_ badly, why did you break off the engagement?”

Jeff took a moment to think, staring down at the wooden table as he did his best to concentrate.

“You said it yourself; because it was easy. Because we both like to cut and run when shit gets too real. Plus, imagine trying to convince our friends that we were being serious. They never would have believed that we really wanted to get married.”

“You’re assuming that I actually wanted to get married too.”

“Well, did you?”

For a second, Britta didn’t know. Would she have gone through with the wedding if they hadn’t mutually broken off their engagement? Would she have been happy being Jeff Winger’s wife, introducing her cats to a rescue dog and building a home with all of them? At the end of the day, would she consider it a good decision, or just another regret to place right on top of her pile?

She took a deep breath. “I think I did, at least a little. I’ve done a lot of crazy shit in stressful situations before, but I’d never gotten _engaged_ to someone until then.”

“So you’re saying that on your end, there were some genuine feelings behind it all?”

“I suppose one could say that.”

Jeff chuckled. “That’s, um…that’s nice to know.”

Britta sat up the slightest bit straighter and leaned forward, placing all of her attention squarely on Jeff. “I have to admit, I’m a little shocked by how open and honest you’re being here,” she said, unsure of what else there was to say.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should! I’m not used to this Jeff who directly says what he wants.”

“Neither am I,” he admitted, running his thumb over Britta’s knuckles, “and, all cards on the table, this is what I _think_ I want. I mean, I’m pretty sure. But this still could be part of a prolonged freakout, I guess. I would totally understand if you just want to pretend that all of this never happened and go back to being just…friends.”

Right then and there, Britta decided that Jeff knew her too well. He was providing her with an escape route, knowing that she was already planning one out in her head. To be fair, in this situation, her safety net was his safety net, and they both knew that slipping out the side door was the safest option available to them.

But maybe the safest option wasn’t always the right one. Maybe Jeff’s thumb running across her knuckles was right. Maybe holding onto each other since no one else would was the answer they’d been looking for. Maybe everything _did_ mean something and maybe they _should_ build something together, because what else were they going to do?

What else were they going to do, and holy shit, she wanted to be with Jeff. In a romantic sense of the phrase.

 _“I can’t picture myself dating anyone else, either,”_ Britta thought, _“but I can picture dating him.”_

Clear as day, she saw both glimpses of the past and a world of new possibilities right before her eyes. _Of course_ they had romantic feelings for each other, why else would they almost get married thrice? What about sophomore year, where they disguised their fear of commitment as concern for the study group? And what, even, of their sudden return to calling each other exes, working references to their past entanglements into conversation whenever possible?

And then, what could the future hold? The dog and picket fence, for sure. Maybe Britta could take up a dumb hobby, like yoga or crochet. Maybe Jeff would get a new job that wasn’t as soul-crushing as being a professor at Greendale. Maybe they could finally both get out of there and have a fresh start, for real. Maybe holding onto each other wouldn’t solve all of their problems, but it sure would be something. Something that neither of them had even gotten close to ever before.

“I don’t want to pretend this never happened. And I _know_ this isn’t just part of us grieving over Annie and Abed leaving,” Britta said, sounding more confident than she had all night.

“And what changed your mind?” Jeff asked, looking almost startled.

“These feelings aren’t new. We just…weren’t equipped to acknowledge them until now,” she explained, “We needed to grow, and our friends heading out into the world was the final push that we needed. I don’t want to get too sappy, but…there’s a teeny tiny minuscule little chance that maybe we’ve wanted this since the first paintball game.”

Jeff’s face came to rest in a soft, neutral expression. “Maybe even longer.”

“Somehow, I think you found my limit for sappiness.”

He winced. “I think I found mine too, that felt like just a little too much.”

Britta laughed, involuntarily squeezing Jeff’s hand and pulling it further into hers as she did so. “You know, I honestly wasn’t quite sure how I felt about all of this when I walked in here. I kind of hoped you wouldn’t bring it up.”

“I didn’t know if I would be _able_ to bring it up,” Jeff remarked, “but why were you hoping for that?”

“Same as all the other times,” Britta said with a shrug, “I was scared.”

“Aren’t we quite the pair? Too scared to be honest with ourselves about our feelings, too scared to commit to anything…”

“And too scared to believe ourselves when we finally figure out what we want.”

They gazed at each other, like they were back in the study room with paintball guns strapped to their thighs, or in the KFC flight simulator, asking if they’d just made a huge mistake, or back in Señor Chang’s class, laying eyes on one another for the first time.

“This might be a dumb question, but I want to be 100% clear. Do you want to give this a shot?” Jeff asked. “ _This_ being us being together. Romantically. And maybe building a future together, if you want,” he hastily added.

Britta could barely contain the wild grin spreading across her face. “I knew what you meant by that. And, for right now, I think I do.”

“For right now?”

She shrugged. “My mind is subject to change.”

“Fair enough,” Jeff conceded.

He couldn’t raise any more objections even if he wanted to, because they were creeping closer together and leaning further and further across the table dividing them until they crashed together right in the middle. Britta’s hands snaked around Jeff’s shoulders and his buried themselves in her hair and _why did they ever stop doing this_. Britta didn’t know of anything that could _possibly_ make more sense than this.

No theories of Freud’s were needed to explain any of this away. She wasn’t quite sure why she’d even bothered to resist the last time they’d had a conversation like this.

 _“This is what we always wanted,”_ she thought, _“It might be dumb and cheesy, but it also might be true.”_

It didn’t matter that they were tucked away in the corner of a pretentious bar. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t agree on what the stupid bar was called. All that really mattered was his lips being on hers, and the promise of a future that suddenly looked a whole lot brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, please leave any thoughts/opinions/etc. down below!! I hope you all enjoyed this break from my season 6 AU (we're just going to ignore the fact that the break from the AU was just a post-season 6 possibility lmao). it was really fun getting hit with the inspiration to write this follow up after re-reading the original songfic and the comments on it, and I was very happy to go from having the idea to executing it in a short amount of time (bless light workloads on Fridays).
> 
> I hope you all are doing well and staying safe, have a great day or night!! <3


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